


A Christmas Gabriel in Prose, Being a Ghost-Story of Christmas

by PerditaAlottachocolate



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternative Timelines, Christmas, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Love, Redemption, Second Chances, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate/pseuds/PerditaAlottachocolate
Summary: At Christmas Eve Hawkmoth gets an unexpected visit from demigods of creation and destruction, who warn him, that the path he chose will lead him astray. As Kwami of Christmas Past, Present and Yet-to-Come take him on a journey through time, he is confronted with consequences of his own choices. Will it be enough to save him? Inspired by A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.





	1. An unexpected visit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/gifts).



> This story is a Christmas gift for my friend Remasa, whom I've met on fanfiction.net, thanks to our fascination with Gabriel character.  
> I am sure this isn't the first fic inspired by Christmas Carol in this fandom, although I haven't searched for nor read any. If you know the original, and it's hard to think you could not, then you can predict where this is going, but I hope you will still enjoy the ride and like my idea of how to get there.  
> And who knows, maybe you're up for a surprise or two along the way.  
> A special thank you to callmecirce for beta-reading this. Her suggestions were most valuable!

The butterfly rested calmly on the black glove. It fluttered its white wings, hypnotized by the honeyed voice whispering over its head. It didn’t flee when another black glove moved over it and trapped it in leather darkness. It waited patiently to the tingling feeling of energy crawling up its legs. Little sparks of  magic fell from its wings and discharged themselves on the walls of the tiny black space.

Then the upper glove was removed and the butterfly shook its wings experimentally. When they got trapped in the moving darkness, its sisters and brothers always came out purple. This time the butterfly’s wings were pink. The insect took flight and started circling the enormous dome, waiting for the honeyed voice to tell it where to go. But instructions weren’t coming. The pink, glittery butterfly was confused.

Hawkmoth stared at the strange akuma with a frown. Did he do something wrong? He felt the negative feelings of a possible champion. He concentrated on them. He poured his will and power into the butterfly, which would allow to establish a connection. Why wasn’t it purple and black like usual? Maybe it was sick? Nooroo never said anything like that could happen. Then again, Nooroo wasn’t exactly the most cooperative being Gabriel had encountered. Not since he learned about Gabriel’s plan to acquire two main miraculouses.

The moth wielder raised his opened hand invitingly once again, hoping the akuma would come back, but it didn’t. It fluttered in ragged circles under the roof, glittering in the scarce light of December afternoon.

Hawkmoth sighed. This was supposed to be a quick try. On Christmas Eve the mansion was for once more or less empty. Adrien went to visit his friends before Réveillon and the rest of the staff either took their day off or was engaged in dinner preparations. It was calm and quiet, perfect conditions to find some unpleasant feelings and send an akuma their way. And it would help him busy his thoughts with something else than _her_ and the fact that yet another Christmas had come while he still hadn't brought her back.

A rustle of fabric roused him from his musings. He turned around to see a floating… _something_. It looked pretty much like a fruit bowl flying upside-down and covered with a white sheet. Had he been a four year old he _might have_ thought this was a ghost. Then again, Gabriel had been a rather bright four year old so he probably wouldn’t have been fooled even 40 years ago.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ He demanded. Was this Nathalie’s prank? Impossible. She had no sense of humor whatsoever. It was actually one of the requirements for the job.

The flying fruit bowl cleared its throat and a tiny voice announced, ‘Hawkmoth! Time has come for you to come to your senses!’ The bowl must have acted as an amplifier because the voice had a distant echo it shouldn’t have, being so tiny.

Then Gabriel heard another voice, whispering frantically.

 _‘Really, Tikki?!_ That _was your line!’_

_‘Shutup, Plagg, you’re ruining everything!’_

The hushed whispering under the fruit bowl didn’t seem in the least scary, but Hawkmoth felt unease nevertheless. He prided himself on the quality of the security system in his lair. It was impossible for anyone bar him or Nathalie to access it without raising alarm. Yet someone clearly managed to break through and was now throwing a show.

 _‘Oh, believe me! You’ve already ruined it,’_ the whispering continued.

_‘Well, excuse me for trying to make something useful with your stupid ghost idea!’_

More importantly, the pink butterfly decided to narrow its circles and hovered directly over the apparition.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Gabriel felt his patience growing extremely thin at the possibility of causing accidental fruit bowl akumatization. He had no idea if fruit bowls had feelings, but judging by the frantic exchange this one had plenty. He silently prepared his cane and angled it to touch the sheet.

The whispering had stopped, yet the ghostly bowl started to jerk and squeak instead; clearly an internal fight was happening under the glass dome. In one swift motion Hawkmoth wrapped the sheet over the tip of his cane and yanked it back. The fabric slid from what indeed turned out to be his own crystal fruit bowl, which usually stood in the leisure room. Two shapes hovered underneath, holding it aloft.

‘Uh-oh,’ the dark one with electric green eyes murmured, nudging his companion.

‘What- oh,’ the red shape replied. ‘Hello, Hawkmoth,’ it finished, bowing with dignity definitely too serious for such a small creature.

The moth wielder raised a brow, contemplating what to do. These were clearly two kwamis, close in size to Nooroo, and with similar tiny voices. The black one looked like a tiny cat with pointy ears, tail and whiskers. The red one was more bug-like, with a single black dot on her forehead and magnificent cerulean eyes. Judging by the coloring they had to be… they _had to be_ the occupants of the jewels he was after.

Hawkmoth didn’t waste time with useless rhetorical questions. He was already sure who he was dealing with.

‘Why are you here?’ he demanded. ‘And could you put that fruit bowl _gently_ on the floor?’ he added with a wince, ‘It is valuable.’

He observed the crystal piece as it drifted to the ground, still upside down. Were those two kwami so dumb, they would trap themselves underneath? Just in case, he came closer and was about to press his hand to the bowl when red and black dashes phased through the glass with a tinkle and zipped to his eye level. Could Nooroo perform that trick too? That matter would have to be investigated further, when this nuisance is over.

‘Gabriel,’ the red kwami bowed again and he had to suppress a gasp at hearing his civilian name. ‘I am Tikki and this is Plagg,’ she pointed to her black companion floating silently beside her. ‘I can see you’ve already figured out who we are.’

Hawkmoth nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. When he offered nothing more in reply, his guest wiped the friendly smile from her features and stared at him with concern.

‘We came to warn you,’ she stated solemnly, while the flying cat glared at him so intently, Gabriel felt shivers down his spine. ‘Your quest is not going to bring you solace, but more suffering.’ She took a deep breath and wanted to continue, but the other kwami chose this moment to interject.

‘What you’re doing is wrong,’ the black cat waved an accusatory paw at him, ‘and it will bite you on your stiff purple butt!’ he spat. Could the fact that the green-eyed sprite seem co crossed with him when the the red one remained so calm and composed, serve as further confirmation of his suspicions about Adrien? Or was the black cat just bad tempered and generally hostile towards him as an enemy?

Hawkmoth almost cackled at the ridiculousness of the little kwami’s rage, but he stopped himself in time. Were these two even serious? What could they possibly do to him without their holders and jewels?

‘My goals and my means are my own business,’ he said doing his best to keep the sinister lilt contained. After all the one calling herself Tikki was polite towards him, and Gabriel was a gentleman. ‘I can assure you there is a greater good that will result from my mission. I don’t have to explain myself to you.’

‘A little respect for older creatures wouldn’t hurt,’ the one name Plagg chided sending him another venomous glare.

‘You can’t know the future’, Hawkmoth shrugged. He wasn’t going to let them get to him, doubt himself or question his mission. He knew what he was doing and what the stakes were.

‘On the contrary,’ the red kwami shook her bulbous head. ‘Kwami are millennia old. You’d be surprised by what we’ve already seen and what we can extrapolate from that,’ she stated matter-of-factly and Gabriel saw the sad certainty of her claim in the dim blue eyes.

‘Been there, done that,’ her companion piped in. Not for the first time tonight Hawkmoth was under the impression that these two talked like they were one being, interjecting or finishing each other’s thoughts, translating them into phrases that they hoped he would understand. Well, he was still confident they didn’t understand _him_. If they knew his reasons, they wouldn’t be like that.

‘This time it’s different-’ the moth wielder countered and faltered under the black sprite’s deadpan look.

‘You humans like to say that a lot,’ the red bug sighed, disappointment marring her features. ‘You all think you’re so exquisite, special, but the end is always the same.’

‘“I didn’t mean that”,’ the black kwami whined in a mocking tone. He was looking straight at Gabriel. ‘“I didn’t want that”, “ _Please make it not happen!”‘_ he ended with emphasis. His eyes hardened even further as if recalling other times when he has been on the receiving end of that line. ‘Well guess what! Kwami are not like genies. What happens, _stays_ happened!’

‘But Ladybug’s Lucky Charm-’ Hawkmoth tried to interrupt them again.

‘Yeah, yeah, it reverts the direct damage caused by an akuma,’ Plagg dismissed him with a flick of his paw as if Gabriel was a school kid that got a question wrong.

‘But only physical damage,’ again the red sprite picked up her companion’s thought, but with much more calm and patience. ‘It can’t change the heart, it can’t clear memories, it can’t create better ones. It can’t heal what's already broken.’

‘And there's always a price,’ the flying cat added. ‘And I don't even mean the price that comes with using our joined miraculouses,’ Hawkmoth furrowed his brow at this unexpected and new bit of information, ‘but the mundane small price that you unknowingly pay every time you release another akuma.’

‘You are going to regret this all,’ the one named Tikki repeated her warning.

Even if she was nothing but patient and well mannered, Hawkmoth still wasn’t used to being caught in a crossfire of accusations and reproofs. ‘Is that why you’re here? To lecture me? Spare yourselves trouble,’ he all but snarled at them and turned to leave.

‘Oh, no, Monsieur. You are going to listen to us,’ the black cat reciprocated with a growl of his own. He caught the edge of the purple sleeve and pulled with a force surprising for such a small creature. ‘We have a gift for you,’ he stated sourly dragging him back into the center of the dome and Hawkmoth instantly understood that nothing pleasant could possibly come out of any gift the black kwami got for him.

‘Because it’s Christmas,’ the red sprite supplied but there was not even one happy sound in it, ‘and because the people you’re hurting deserve better-’

‘-Out of all those confused, misguided, poor guys widely known as supervillains,’ her companion again continued her thought as if they were one, ‘ _you_ get a chance.’

‘Because we believe your heart hasn’t been corrupted yet,’ the ladybug kwami concluded.

Gabriel was already disoriented with the way they spoke to him and treated him. ‘A chance?’ he asked, frantically trying to think of a way out.

‘A chance to make it not happen,’ the one named Tikki said, as if this would explain anything.

‘I don’t understand,’ Hawkmoth decided to play for time.

‘Oh you will, soon enough,’ the black sprite murmured ominously and Gabriel shuddered at the deep, sinister tone of his voice. He turned his questioning gaze at his two unwelcome and unexpected guests but their attention had shifted to something above their heads.

Blue and green eyes locked onto the confused pink butterfly that still hovered high under the dome and Hawkmoth suddenly felt his insides churn with an unpleasant sensation of trouble approaching.

‘Now, Plagg!’ the ladybug kwami hissed, throwing herself in Hawkmoth’s way while her companion launched himself at the pink butterfly. His paws were already steaming with black bubbles of cataclysm.

The moth wielder stopped inches from the red sprite as if he had hit a wall. With eyes wide opened and lips curled in a shocked scowl he watched as the akuma, still charged with his power, blackened and disintegrated into dust under the black cat’s touch. A subtle butterfly outline made entirely out of light flickered in its place for a moment and disappeared.

Hawkmoth felt the cataclysm deep within himself, as if some invisible force drained his energy at once. He dropped to his knees. ‘What have you done?’ he whimpered clutching his reeling head. A deep growl tore from his throat,  ‘You will pay for that!’

Tikki smiled wickedly and Gabriel thought she would be the last creature he would suspect of being cruel or unkind. Yet there she was, hovering over him with a self satisfied smirk while he could barely breathe. She brought her paws together in a motion similar to what he did when he poured his power into an akuma and silver shine glimmered between her joined limbs. It got brighter and brighter until it erupted like a supernova, sending a shockwave that forced him to close his eyes before they would burn. A strange afterglow flickered under his eyelids and he didn’t dare to look again until it faded completely.

Hawkmoth no longer had his usual composure. The calm that he had used as his shield dissolved into a mixture of confusion, rage and fear in the face of the assault. He barely had enough of coherent thought left to see what happened to the kwami.

A silvery-pinkish shape fluttered between the red sprite’s paws. The akuma returned, recreated by the demigoddess. Dark lines snaked and twisted over the surface of its wings. Hawkmoth watched helplessly as the ladybug kwami whispered something in a language he didn’t recognize. The butterfly quivered and took flight.

In his direction.

‘What have you done?’ he yelled and tried to move away. ‘What have you done to my akuma?!’

‘This is our gift to you, Gabriel,’ Tikki replied revelently. ‘Use it wisely.’

‘Now!’ Plagg hissed and the butterfly charged at the retreating man.

Hawkmoth swatted at it with his cane, but there was no stopping an akuma when it chose its target. The butterfly landed on the miraculous brooch and disappeared inside. Grey mist engulfed the man’s feet and crawled up his legs.

‘What’s happening?!’ He waved at the smoke in a vain attempt to chase it away. ‘What have you done to me?!’

‘Aren’t you familiar with this process, _Hawkmoth_?’ the black cat snickered, casting him a disbelieving look.

‘Answers are coming, Gabriel,’ his blue-eyed companion said soothingly.

‘More answers, than you could possibly wish for,’ the black sprite murmured under his breath. ‘Enjoy the ride,’ he added with a condescending smirk, leaning leisurely on Tikki’s shoulder.

At that the mist swallowed the whole purple figure and with a faint pop, Hawkmoth disappeared in a puff of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only chapter 1 out of 5 that I've planned. I wanted to finish this before Christmas, but life had other ideas. For now there's no fixed schedule, but this story currently has priority and I will try to update it soon.
> 
> In the meantime check out my other stories, Christmas themed or not. You can also visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/perditaalottachocolate-blog).
> 
> I hope your holidays are happy!


	2. Pollen of Christmas Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year already, huh? Well, I am glad to inform you that this time I have more, much more content for you.  
> This is the first of the remaining four chapters. I will be updating sooner than in another year ;)
> 
> Merry Christmast to [Remasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/pseuds/Remasa) as this was originally her gift, and to you all!

 

With a loud thump Hawkmoth landed in the middle of a street, directly in the way of a bus. The driver didn’t even bother with honking, his bored eyes trained on something far behind the villain.

Long forgotten instincts took over and the moth wielder leaped onto the pavement in an impressive _grand jete_. He released a heavy breath and patted himself to check if all the important bits were still in place. He froze as his eyes fell on his suit. It was still purple, but with dark and light pattern of a broken eggshell covering the material. The cracks seemed to move when he wasn’t watching because he could swear that they were different each time he looked. He inspected his reflection in a nearby window. His skull mask was still in place, though the same lines wove their way over the silver surface, making him squirm, as if they were crawling over his exposed skin.

He almost jumped again, as a honeyed voice whispered into his ear.

‘Evening, Gabriel.’

Hawkmoth turned around and saw another kwami. A yellow blob with black paws was hovering at his eye level, totally unperturbed that someone might spot her.

‘I’m Pollen,’ she dipped her head in a slight bow. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

His brows furrowed as he analysed the creature. She had very disturbing eyes, blue where the white would normally be, but maybe it was an insect thing. Black antennae stuck out of the bulbous head. Slightly darker fuzz adorned the neck and shoulders of the sprite and when she turned he saw a stinger at the back. There had been a bee miraculous and a bee hero in the Book, so he couldn’t say he was surprised at the sight of a bee kwami.

‘What is going on here?’ he drawled. ‘You want to get me killed? On Christmas Eve? You don’t know who you’re messing with.’ He waved a warning finger.

The bee blinked, ‘You’re not Gabriel? Gabriel Agreste? Currently in the possession of the moth miraculous?’

Hawkmoth released a frustrated growl, ‘Enough of this circus!’ he yelled. ‘I’m going home!’

‘But…’ the creature looked at him, perplexed, ‘you already are home…’

Something in the kwami’s tone made him finally look around, only to discover they were standing in front of a carpenter’s workshop, its name announced in stylish bronze letters on the signboard above them.

_‘P. Agreste and Son’_

 

Gabriel felt his head spinning and his heartbeat sped up to astronomical rate. He hadn’t been in this place in years. It was hard to believe the signboard would still be here. He dared a peek inside and retracted immediately.

‘It’s impossible,’ he whispered more to himself than to his yellow companion. His hands involuntarily went to his hair with an intent of grabbing a handful, but then he remembered his super suit prevented that. He wondered how his heart managed to beat even faster than before and what it meant when one suffered from tinnitus.

‘I need you to calm down, honey,’ the bee eyed him warily, noticing his state. ‘And I might be able to provide you with some answers.’

The moth wielder opened his mouth but the kwami silenced him with a flick of her paw.

‘Ah-ah-ah,’ she chided. ‘Only when you calm down and behave!’

Gabriel closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. He slowly started climbing down from his adrenaline rushed high. He simply must have been disoriented after his sudden abduction from the lair. Then the close encounter with the bus made his stomach clench even further. He should have thought of taking control of his emotions himself. Nothing good ever came from running around like a headless chicken.

With last deep breath he returned to himself. In more than one sense, as he looked at the occupant of the workshop again. A teenage boy with pale blonde, combed back hair and icy blue eyes sat at the table in the huge room. It was him all right, about three decades ago. This was his home and his father’s workplace. This was where he grew up.

‘I don’t really need to ask,’ the bee kwami said conversationally. ‘I can see you’ve recognized the place and the person.’

Hawkmoth nodded, not taking his eyes off the teenager.

‘Do you know the date?’ the yellow sprite inquired.

Gabriel considered this. He stared at the boy for a long moment, analyzing his clothes and surroundings. His gaze swept over the furnishings and equipment too. His head started spinning again and he had to lean on his cane, as his knees buckled when the realization hit him.

‘December 1987,’ he finally said, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. ‘Near Christmas, but I’m not sure about the exact date.’

‘Christmas Eve,’ his companion supplied. ‘There are certain limits to when we can take you. The day is one of them.’

Gabriel’s gaze swept again over the casual clothes his younger self was wearing, as well as the contents of the table. The food there was not really different from their everyday grub, humble cuisine of the working class, nothing special, luxurious or réveillon worthy.

‘Why are we here?’ he asked again, but this time his voice was hollow. Once he realized _when_ he was, he didn’t have it in him to fight this. Hawkmoth was one of a few people aware of the powers miraculouses held, and every sense including common sense told him that he really had returned to 1987. The air had a crisp bite to it. Unmistakable scents from a nearby bistro mixed with the smell of wood, varnish and grease. Cars rushing over the cobblestones sang a distant song that used to lull him to sleep. His childhood in a nutshell.

‘You know this as well,’ the yellow sprite’s voice brought his reminiscence to an abrupt end. ‘This is the last Christmas you spent with your father.’

‘I know that. I was here!’ Gabriel felt a painful tug in his chest at the reminder and sudden wetness appeared in his long dried eyes. He took another calming breath. ‘I want to know why you took me here.’

Pollen hesitated, choosing her words with care, ‘You could say I’m a Kwami of Christmas Past. At least for tonight. I was asked to take care of the first part your journey through time, so that you wouldn’t get lost or…’

‘Get into trouble?’ the man asked but the kwami shook her head.

‘That would be practically impossible. Getting lost though…’ she gazed at him intently, ‘getting lost in the past is much easier than it seems.’

Gabriel tried to keep the eye contact but faltered under the weight of her stare. He decided to pretend he wanted to take another look at his younger self. Mini Gabe was sketching furiously, not minding the food or the clattering coming from the next room, where, as he now recalled, his father was preparing the gifts.

‘Shall we go inside?’ Pollen suggested. ‘Not that we can get cold, but I think it would be better if we were there.’

‘Wait!’ Hawkmoth tore his gaze from the boy. ‘Won’t they see us?’

‘Remember that bus you encountered earlier? The driver didn’t see you, did he?’

‘He almost killed me!’

The bee giggled as if he said something really silly. ‘The bus wouldn’t have caused any harm,’ she explained, seeing his bemused expression. ‘Although it seems like you’re really here, we occupy a different dimension, temporarily adjacent to this time.’ To illustrate her point she put her paws together until they were a hair’s width apart. ‘No one can see us or hear us. We are less than ghosts to them. Barely a whisper in the wind.’

Hawkmoth turned to the window again and gulped heavily. He clenched his fists as if in this way he could secure himself some courage floating in the air. Pollen watched in silence as he stared at the inside of the workshop, jaw set in stone, eyes blinking away the tears, brow furrowed. Who would have thought that it would be this hard.

‘Let’s go,’ he finally said and his hand hovered over the doorknob before passing right through. He made another grab for it with similar effects. ‘How do we-?’

‘Just go through the door, Gabriel,’ the kwami chuckled as if it was the most obvious thing on earth.

Reluctantly, he put his palm over the door and pushed. The gloved hand disappeared behind the wood. Pollen smiled and flew inside. Hawkmoth followed her.

Adjacent dimension or not, he was home. He knew this place by heart. Even after all these years he still remembered the smells, the play of light on the windows, the cracks in the ceiling, the sounds the floorboards made.

He gasped when a tall, broad figure appeared at the door, towering not only over the skinny teen at the table, but also over the adult version of his son. Pascal Agreste was already on the northern side of 45, but he could easily pass for a man approaching retirement. Years of demanding, physical work showed in his ashen complexion, in dark bags under his eyes and deep wrinkles covering his face. A thick mane of pale blond hair surrounded his head, sticking up at odd angles and giving him the appearance of a lighting-strike survivor. Unlike the hair, the mustache adorning his upper lip was perfectly groomed, creating a very disturbing contrast.

Gabriel looked into the icy blue eyes, so similar to his own, and felt the pang of regret, that they couldn’t see him. A ghost of smile danced on his lips as he watched a huge calloused hand gently touching mini Gabe’s shoulder. The boy jumped, startled by the sudden contact and the man guffawed. The roar of laughter echoed in the spacious workshop, so cordial that it would be impossible not to join in. The teen snorted and did his best to suppress his amusement, but in vain. He cracked a lopsided grin at his father and playfully hit him on the shoulder.

‘Daaaaad!’ he whined. ‘Don’t laugh! You scared me!’

‘Sorry! Sorry!’ the older Agreste raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrendering. ‘But I wasn’t exactly stealthy. Not my fault you spaced out just now. What are you working on?’

The boy hesitated for a moment before passing the sketchbook. Hawkmoth glimpsed a slim silhouette with a half-finished suit before Pascal took it. He eyed the sketch appreciatively. ‘You got really good with proportions and if you can save the world from those ridiculous broad shoulder jackets, Paris would probably found you a statue.’ he chuckled goodnaturedly and started flipping through the sketchbook.

Gabriel just stood there, enchanted with the memory replayed just for his eyes. Soon father and son started on their dinner, still deep in discussion over art and fashion styles. And then it was time to exchange gifts. Teen Gabe presented Pascal with a framed portrait of the older man. As his father admired the painting Gabriel dared to step closer to take a peek too. The portrait was impressionistic - in Pascal’s beloved style. Gabriel still remembered how long it took to get every detail right. How he had painstakingly applied every color, every beam of light. How he mused on the tones to keep the mood light. His fourteen years old self had poured all the love he had for his father into the canvas and he later found consolation in the fact that he’d managed to complete it before…

The moth wielder shook his head and stepped back.

Now it was time for Pascal to hand his gifts and Gabriel shivered at the thought. The last gifts he had ever received from his father were more than special. They changed his life forever.

Pascal placed a large box in the middle of the table and put a drawing next to it.

‘That’s my last year’s gift for you,’ young Gabriel pointed out, questioning gaze switching between the box and the picture. ‘Why have you taken it from the wall?’

‘Open the box, Gab,’ the older man encouraged, curling his mustache with mischievous smirk.

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He made a quick work on the ribbons and the paper. He slowly pushed the lid aside and the walls of the cardboard container fell down to reveal the contents. Hawkmoth gasped in time with his younger self. He forgot how beautiful this was. The two Gabriels stared in silence at the wooden sculpture in the middle of the table.

It was a butterfly, seemingly taking flight from the cone-shaped pedestal. Its wings were stretched wide, like they would flutter any second. The wings themselves were not solid, but chiseled in intricate pattern, looking more like lace than wood. The butterfly was swaying slightly, balancing on its middle limbs - the only point of contact with the pedestal. It was a masterpiece of balance, of sculpture, of imitation. And it was the same butterfly as in the picture laying on the table.  

‘You like it?’ Pascal asked after a while.

‘Like it? Like it?’ Younger Gabriel whispered, his attention still fully absorbed by this exquisite gift. ‘This is beyond beautiful, dad! This is… I can’t even think of any words that would do it justice! Thank you!’ With that final cry the teen threw himself at his father and drowned in his embrace.

‘That’s a butterfly all right,’ Pollen whistled appreciatively. ‘Butterfly essence trapped in wood. Reminds me of how Nooroo came to being,’ she added under her breath. ‘Was that what your father did for a living?’

Hawkmoth shook his head. ‘He was a carpenter. He made furniture, mostly kitchen cupboards, tables or chairs sometimes.’

Pollen’s brow furrowed as she gawked and the butterfly sculpture again. Teen Gabe tapped a wing with his finger sending the shape into an excited dance.

‘He should have been an artist,’ Gabriel continued in a hollow voice. ‘Those hands could work magic with anything they touched. And his creativity was astounding. To see the shape in a crude slab of wood, to imagine the complex form in simple, mundane ingredients,’ he brushed away a stray tear that escaped to his cheek. ‘He taught me that. He taught me how to look for treasures hidden from uninspired eyes.’

Father and son engaged in a heated discussion on the details of the sculpture and the boy’s drawings. Pascal’s hand never left the teen’s shoulder. The man’s eye shone as he stared proudly at their two creations, accepting praise from his son and replying in kind.

Hawkmoth decided he had seen as much as he could take. He turned to the window. The street fell quiet, warm light filtering through the curtains of neighboring houses. In each of them people were feasting, eating and cheering. Just like his younger self, oblivious to what was about to come.

‘What happened?’ Pollen asked, as if reading his mind.

‘Life happened,’ he barked back through clenched teeth. ‘We needed to eat something other than praise. He worked his fingers to the bone, so that there would be roof over our heads, food on the table, paper and pencils on my desk. My father did everything he could so that I would have what I needed.’

‘This is your last Christmas with your father?’

‘Yes,’ Gabriel confirmed, voice breathless. Finally he tore his eyes from the street and turned back to the pair at the table. ‘This life, the amount of work he took, it was too much.’

Pollen buzzed silently in reply. She opened her mouth to say something but Hawkmoth stopped her with a raised hand. He stared at his father, as Pascal pulled the second, smaller box from his pocket and put it in front of the teen.

This box wasn’t gift-wrapped nor decorated with a bow. But it wasn’t simple either. Black octagonal shape had been engraved with strange red patterns. It was tied with a simple string and supplied with a small card.

‘“To open in the darkest times to gain help”,’ the boy read. He reached for the knot, but his father stopped him before he could untie the string.

‘Don’t open it now, Gab. I’m serious,’ Pascal’s tone was surprisingly stern. ‘This has been in our family for generations. It’s apparently where our last name comes from.’ He tapped the lid cautiously. ‘But its contents are still a great mystery. My father told me one simply knows the right moment to use it, although I hope you never need to.’

‘Is that…?’ Pollen’s eyes were fixed on the box.

‘Yes,’ Gabriel’s breath hitched. ‘When my father died I kept my promise not to open it. Although it didn’t stop me from searching and combing every archive and library I could access for the symbols on the box. Still, I found nothing.’

The kwami nodded her head in understanding.

‘I got lucky only once,’ Hawkmoth’s eyes glazed with an old memory as his younger self reached out. ‘A man recognized some of the symbols on the sides as an archaic variation of tibetan alphabet,’ he said shuddering as the boy’s slender fingers closed over the box. ‘I was on a plane to Tibet the next day. I-’ he stopped feeling a gust of wind around his ankles.

He looked down only to see mist rising from the floor. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I believe that’s our cue,’ Pollen cast a wistful look at the ornamental box.

Hawkmoth whipped his head to his father, the vision before him already blurring. Pascal’s hand lay heavily on young Gab’s shoulder. Gabriel’s glove landed on the same spot on his arm, in an attempt to preserve the memory of that touch. He squeezed tight and blinked away the tears as the scene before him melted into nothingness.

‘Where are we going now?’ he asked in a strained tone, cursing his voice for betraying him.

‘We started with a last time,’ Pollen hummed, her face a mask of concentration as she navigated through the darkness. ‘Now we’re heading to a first.’

And before he even had time to inquire about that strange wording he was blinded by light so bright it hurt to keep his eyes open. He covered his face with his hands and drew a sharp breath that stung his lungs.

Snow.

He knew that scent, that sensation of needles piercing his skin. He knew where they landed even before he opened his eyes again.

‘Welcome back to Tibet, Gabriel,’ Pollen announced.

He blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness. They were on the outskirts of a town lit by fading sunlight. Sun sat low over the horizon drowning the landscape in liquid gold. Millions of sparks danced over the snowy hills and reflected off the distant mountain tops.

It took a moment of searching, but Hawkmoth soon located the lanky form of a young Gabriel, now fresh in his twenties, as he sat on a rolled sleeping bag and sketched furiously, not minding the cold thanks to gloves of his design. The moth wielder did a quick calculation in his head, pondering on Pollen’s words. After a few seconds he was racing down the hill with the kwami chasing behind.

‘She will be coming from this direction,’ he muttered to himself. ‘They reached the town not long before sunset. But-’ he stopped so abruptly the bee sprite bumped into his back.

‘Gabriel?’ She asked, watching him warily. ‘Are you okay?’

‘If you took me here,’ the man said slowly, as if trying to capture a thought that was slipping out of his reach, ‘can you take me to when she’s back and safe with us?’ he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Pollen shook her head.  ‘Kwami of Christmas Past, remember?’

‘Okay, okay,’ Hawkmoth nodded. ‘Then… take me to the moment of her accident,’ he snapped his fingers grasping the new idea. ‘If I can find out what exactly happened, what she’d done, maybe I can reverse it!’

‘Oh…,’ Pollen bit her lower lip seemingly considering this request. ‘Did it happen on Christmas Eve? Were you there?’

‘No,’ Gabriel frowned. ‘If I had been, I would have saved her, or at the very least known what happened.’

The yellow kwami sighed. ‘I can take you only to past Christmas Eves and only your past, so that wouldn’t really work,’ she hung her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry.’

Hawkmoth pressed his lips into a thin line and clenched his fists. What was the use of this circus, if he couldn’t fix things. How on earth was that bunch of kwami going to convince him to change his mind about the miraculous, if they weren’t offering him any solutions? He felt the rage rising from the pit of his stomach, but then he heard voices down the path.

A party of people in mountaineer gear and local guides slowly made their way down to the valley. They were heading to the town in groups of three or four. Conversations in English, French and Dutch filled the air. Here and there a native muttered something in Tibetan and was rewarded with a burst of laughter from his peers.

Gabriel’s anger subsided as he watched the crowd moving in front of his eyes. Finally he saw her. She already passed their position but there was no mistaking her tall lithe figure, clad in a comfy sand jacket and blue snow pants. She was the only person in the group to wear a hat with a fluffy pom-pom on top. A blonde braid, now covered in snow, wove its way down her collar and shoulder.

‘Emilie!’ Hawkmoth shouted before he could stop himself. Next to him Pollen huffed in discontent.

He knew he was less than a ghost in this time, but to his surprise the girl stopped and turned around. Her magnificent green eyes swept over her surroundings in search for something, but there was nothing for her to see.

Perplexed she resumed her stroll and immediately bumped into a tall foreigner.

‘I’m sorry!’ they both cried in English, throwing their hands in the air in the universal “I mean no harm” gesture. And paused as their cry echoed and boomed in the valley, a distant thunder in the white lands.

Emilie narrowed her eyes as she studied the man who crashed into her.

Hawkmoth didn’t need to look to know the foreigner bore the same dumbstruck grimace. He remembered she had knocked all air out of him.

His younger self, because of course it was young Gabriel, finally came to his senses and crouched to pick up the item that fell out of her hands at the moment of their crash. Emilie had the same idea, so soon they were rubbing their foreheads and mumbling “sorry” for the second time.

‘Allow me, _Mademoiselle_!’ Younger Gabriel bowed respectfully and the girl flushed.

‘ _Mon dieu_ , you’re French!’ she clapped her hands in delight, replying him in their native language. ‘Me too!’

The man smiled and crouched back to retrieve the item. It was a book. He stiffened as he noticed the familiar patterns on the thick leather cover. His hand hovered over the grimoire for a moment.

‘Was it the girl or the book?’ Pollen asked as they watched young Gabriel’s hesitation.

‘Both,’ Hawkmoth muttered under his breath. There was no point in lying to the kwami. He had been as intrigued by his future wife as by her book that contained the same symbols as his mysterious box.

‘Is everything all right, Monsieur?’ They heard Emilie’s voice, that prompted Gabriel’s younger version to grab the grimoire and spring to his feet. He brushed the book cleaning it off snow and passed it to the girl uttering a few words of polite interest.

Mist pooled over Hawkmoth’s feet again, the scenery started to fade. Young Gabriel offered Emilie his arm and they marched to the town together, followed by long shadows of the last gleam of sunset.

‘Where to now?’ older Gabriel asked, eyes trained on the disappearing pair, voice barely above whisper. The sun sank below the horizon and the world drowned in darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am anxiously awaiting your comments. This story wasn't easy to write and I'm sure it is also not easy to read, so I appreciate your presence here greatly!
> 
> An enormous thank you goes to [Freedom-Shamrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/pseuds/Freedom_Shamrock) who beta-read this chapter and helped me make it better.
> 
> I will be coming back with the next chapter of this story during Christmas, so stay tuned!
> 
> Check out my other stories or visit me on [tumblr!](https://perditaalottachocolate-blog.tumblr.com/). Lately there's more art than stories, but you're always welcome!


	3. Trixx of Christmas Present

Hawkmoth emerged from the void with a loud gasp. He landed on his knees in the middle of his study. There were no kwami in sight. He rubbed his temples feeling the approaching migraine.

Faces he thought he’d never see again rose from the depths of his memory. His father. His younger selves. Young Emilie. Was it all just a headache-induced dream?

Gabriel was no stranger to nightmares, finding it harder to sleep with each day, but it didn’t seem like a dream. He pulled himself up and went to Emilie’s portrait, intent on returning to his hideout and making sure there were no kwami of creation and destruction waiting for him there.

He aimed to launch the hidden trapdoor mechanism, but his fingers passed right through the painting.

‘Gabey! Hi! Sorry I’m late!’ a voice from behind him cried and an orange blur circled him excitedly.

He caught a glimpse of a fuzzy tail and pointy ears before he got dizzy.

‘I’m Trixx,’ the creature chirped, finally landing on his shoulder. ‘Kwami of Christmas Present, at your service!’

Hawkmoth squinted at the orange blob. A miniature fox was grinning at him, showing two rows of perfect tiny needles. She batted her tail left and right and fluttered her lashes.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Trixx chirruped. ‘We need to get going or we’ll miss him!’

She bounced off his shoulder and darted for the door. ‘Come on, come on! There’s no time like present!’ She paused at that and scratched her chin. ‘Although actually there is, and it’s running away, so get that purple booty moving! Out! Out! Out!’

Gabriel was too shocked to disobey. His legs were carrying him out through the door and onto the street before he noticed. The little sprite flew ahead of him, reminding him of an enthusiastic dog and forcing him to speed walk to the point of panting. He wasn’t used to walking, and he was pretty sure his dramatic strolls through the lair didn’t count. Trixx stopped a few times to check if he followed.

‘Wait!’ he demanded trying to catch his breath at the same time. ‘Can’t you just transport us to wherever you think we need to be? Pollen seemed to have no problem with that.’

‘Ah,’ Trixx tapped her nose. ‘But Pollen is a kwami of Christmas Past. It’s much easier to navigate in an established timeline.’

‘What?’

‘Look, Gabey,’ the little fox scrunched her nose. ‘I’m not exactly the kwami to talk about miraculous time travel. That’s more of Wayzz’s thing. But the way I see it, you’re in a personal bubble of your “now” that we take into different moments in time.’ She drew a spherical shape with her paws and moved them around as if it was the bubble she mentioned. ‘But at the same - um for the lack of better word - time, the _time_ in your global “now” hasn’t ceased flowing, so um, in the past or future this doesn’t really cause trouble, but in present…,’ she seemed to consider her next line. ‘Well you’re here with me now and not where you would otherwise be now, and that kinda constitutes a new now for you, so... ‘ she trailed off.

‘So?’ he prompted the kwami to continue. He was already lost and looking for even a little bit of logic or sense in her mad babbling.

‘So in the Present, your personal bubble can’t move from A to B without physically taking that path. Look, the Present is so thin, that if I tried that trick with transporting us, there’s no telling when we’d end up, okay? I am not taking that risk, mister. I’ve had Wayzz nagging me about perfectly negligible navigation mistakes before and I’m so done with that turtle.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Got it?’

She didn’t wait for his answer, which would be a big fat “no” anyway, just flew behind him and pushed him to move forward. Transporting or not, it seemed to speed things up a bit and soon Gabriel found himself in front of a door. He recognized the neighborhood as close to Adrien’s school. A little boulangerie patisserie nested on the ground level of the old tenement house, still open despite the approaching holiday.

‘Why are we here exactly?’ he asked, but the fox kwami only shushed at him.

‘I’ll explain in a second,’ she whispered. Her ears twitched as she listened to the sounds of a distant chatter. ‘Now up we go,’ she ordered and without further ado pushed him into the wood and to the other side.

Two flights of stairs later the fox kwami unceremoniously shoved him inside someone’s apartment, as if he was nothing more than a naughty cub.

‘Phew, we’re right on time!’ Trixx flopped onto his shoulder and released a tired sigh.

‘On time for what?’ Gabriel apparently spoke only in questions now.

His guide only nodded in the direction of the room and sprawled herself on a shelf nearby.

He looked around. The place was small but quaint, with a warm feel to it. It was also crowded. A group of teenagers surrounded a Christmas tree and argued about who would get to give his presents first. There was too much cheerful pushing, tickling and laughing for this to be a real fight, but it was still too loud for his tastes. He was beginning to wonder why the kwami had dragged him here, when he spotted Adrien among the teens.

The boy’s hair was ruffled and his cheeks were pink from excitement. His eyes shone as he prodded a brunette, making her jump and squeal. He used her stupefaction to grab a gift from her hands and lifted it high above the girl’s head.

‘You can’t give presents, if you can’t reach them, Mari,’ he singsang triumphantly.

The girl huffed and narrowed her eyes at him. A redhead who stood next to her took a step back with a sharp ‘Uh-oh.’

Adrien frowned at the reaction, but soon he found himself pinned to the couch as the petite brunette tackled him with surprising speed and force.

‘Nino, help!’ his son squirmed in the girl’s grip, though a few giggles that escaped him belied the need for rescue.

‘Bro, you know I love you,’ the other boy replied, backing away. ‘But I’m scared of Marinette much more,’ he said apologetically.

Gabriel now recognized him as Adrien’s DJ friend. Upon closer inspection the brunette indeed turned out to be Marinette, the talented hat designer. He hadn’t identified her before because she had altered her hairdo, exchanging the pigtails for a braid. The redhead next to them was probably their classmate, so this must have been the occasion his son mentioned when he had left in the afternoon.

‘Fair enough,’ Adrien wheezed. ‘I surrender,’ he offered the package back to Marinette. ‘You can go first, Mari.’ He ducked his head and sent his friend a tender gaze.

She smirked at him and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘This one’s actually for you, so you might as well open it now.’

‘Ah, if he got yours, I want to give mine too!’ Nino rummaged through the stack of packages to retrieve a small flat box wrapped in green paper. ‘Here you go, my dude! Merry Christmas!’

‘Me too, me too!’ the redhead piped in passing Adrien the third present.

The teens waited patiently as the boy carefully unwrapped his gifts. He went with Marinette’s first, squealing like a fangirl when he pulled out the large red hoodie with Ladybug spots scattered over the material. It even had black antennas sewn to the top of the hood, making the owner look more like a real insect than a Ladybug wannabe. Adrien put it on and wrapped himself with the soft fabric sighting in delight.

‘Thank you!’ he exclaimed and pulled the girl into a tight hug. ‘I love it! I am never taking this off!’

Marinette flushed at his reaction, but it was clear she was beyond happy. Gabriel made a mental note to get a closer look at the garment as it looked quite promising, maybe except for the fact that it was an obvious tribute to Ladybug.

Adrien finally released his friend and move to Nino’s gift. It was a CD and a memory stick.

‘I didn’t know which one you’d prefer, so I prepared both,’ the bespectacled boy explained. ‘The contents are the same.’

‘Marinette, can I…’ Adrien pointed to the stereo system and before he even had time to finish the sentence, the girl was already putting the album on.

It was something Gabriel didn’t recognize, and definitely a so called mix, but then he heard the teens gasp as a new line joined the song. Soft piano, definitely not a part of the original composition.

‘That’s me!’ Adrien gaped at the speakers. ‘That’s my performance!’

Nino scratched his head and shuffled his feet. ‘Yeah, I recorded your last concert and used it for a few sets. You like it?’

In a flash Adrien was at his friend’s side and hugging him fiercely. ‘It’s amazing!’ he cried. ‘Thank you, Nino!’

‘You’re welcome,’ the other boy grinned.

‘Easy there, Agreste,’ the redhead caught Adrien’s collar and pulled him away. ‘That’s my boyfriend, you know.’

‘Ah, sorry, Alya,’ the boy winked at her. ‘But he’s such a great cuddler I couldn’t resist.’

‘Damn right,’ she nodded. ‘Then you are forgiven. Now open the one from me!’

Adrien didn’t need more encouragement. He unwrapped the rectangular shape and blinked. Then blinked again raising it to his eyes. ‘H-how… how did you…?’

‘I have my ways,’ Alya said with a smile worthy of a fox.

‘What is it?’ Marinette and Nino tried to peek at the item.

Adrien turned it so that they all could see the framed photo of him in a charcoal suit and the feather hat being carried by Ladybug. His friends awed in unison.

‘That’s not all!’ Adrien exclaimed and tapped at the picture. ‘There’s an autograph too!’

Hawkmoth, who until now observed the scene from a safe distance, moved closer to see for himself. Sure enough, next to the photo of his son carried bridal style by his archenemy, there was a signature, a little doodle of a yoyo and even a stray heart. Gabriel despised people who put hearts into their autographs. He flinched and retreated to his position at the door.

‘Can we go now?’ he turned to Trixx, who was polishing her claws and hovering at his sight level.

‘Not yet.’

‘I think I’ve seen enough,’ he snapped.

‘Not yet,’ the kwami repeated, unperturbed by his tone. ‘There’s more you need to see, so do us a favor, Gabey, and watch, okay?’

Hawkmoth sent her his best scowl, but she just grinned at him and flicked her tail. She pointed to the teens and returned to her claws like they were the most interesting thing on earth.

Without any choice in the matter Gabriel shifted his attention back to the group. Now it was his son’s turn to hand the gifts. He expected they would be quite impressive. After all he provided his son with resources that allowed the boy to pick top shelf merchandise, including their family brand.

So it came as a huge surprise when it turned out that Adrien’s gifts were all handmade, in a manner similar to what his friends prepared for him. Alya got a new logo design for the Ladyblog together with an adjusted color scheme. Nino’s gift constituted of a pair of personalised headphones that got equipped with earmuffs and of a crafted felt case with little music notes sewn onto it. Marinette was already hanging her set of Christmas ornaments on the tree, murmuring praises at Adrien’s creation. Gabriel had to admit that the Ladybug and Chat Noir themed felt baubles were quite nice on the eyes, even if he could see some minor mistakes from afar. The giftee didn’t comment on that in any way, she seemed to be elated and promised to save a few ornaments for her room.

‘Whose gift is this?’ Nino asked when he found a last flat package on the kitchen counter. ‘There’s no card.’

‘That’s for my father,’ Adrien made a dash for the present. ‘Marinette showed me a few tricks and I needed a last minute advice.’ He scratched his neck anxiously. ‘I wanted to make sure it would fit to father’s standards.’

Nino and Alya cast him a compassionate look.

‘You know you don’t have to be perfect,’ his friend said. ‘And neither does your gift.’

‘I know, I just- nevermind,’ Adrien put the package in his bag.

‘It’s getting late,’ Alya said moving to the hangers. ‘My parents are probably waiting with all the food.’

‘Thanks for having us, Mari!’ Nino followed her.

Adrien whipped his head at his friends. He didn’t look like he was in a hurry, nor like he wanted to return home. ‘How about one last round of Ultra Mecha Strike, hmmm? I’ll be playing with one eye closed this time to even the chances.’ He clearly aimed at a friendly tease, but it still came out a little desperate.

Nino stared at him for one long moment before shifting his gaze to Marinette. ‘Okay,’ he finally said, when she gave him a short nod. ‘One last round and then we really must be going.’

‘Right on time,’ a new voice boomed from the door making Hawkmoth in surprise. ‘I was counting on a little match all day.’

A huge man entered the apartment. He was carrying a tray the size of a sewer cover filled with treats. The teens perked up at the sight.

‘Ultra Mecha Strike _and_ fresh Dupain-Cheng pastries,’ Nino sighed. ‘Can you adopt me, Monsieur Dupain?’

‘I’m not sure your parents would be happy with that,’ the man, apparently Marinette’s father, replied. ‘But you can always marry my daughter and this all will be yours,’ he curled up his mustache.

For some reason two of the four teens flushed at his suggestion, and neither of them was Nino.

Alya, who as far as Gabriel recalled from the earlier conversation claimed to be his girlfriend, put an arm around the bespectacled boy and winked. ‘Sorry, Monsieur, I called dibs on this hunk already. But you’re welcome to choose literally any other boy in here for your son-in-law,’ she added with a cheeky grin.

Gabriel frowned, as Marinette made a little whining sound and retreated to the living room with an impressive speed, trying to hide her steaming face. ‘Maybe I’ll put the game on, so that it’s ready for you, Papa,’ she sputtered.

Adrien stood in place for a moment, his face carefully blank, watching Monsieur Dupain’s lips stretch into a beaming smile.

‘Come on, son,’ the man patted the blond on the back. ‘How about a duel, hmmm? I bet I can get you this time, Tom style. Booyah!’

Now Adrien finally smiled back. ‘You can certainly try, Monsieur Dupain,’ he said innocently allowing the man to lead him back to the couches.

Hawkmoth felt his stomach twisting into a tight knot at the spike of jealousy. He was about to follow the teens but Trixx suddenly appeared in his way.

‘Well?’ she drawled. ‘We can go now.’

‘Now?’ Gabriel tried to look past her at the match, but she only hovered closer to his nose.

‘You wanted to go, Gabey, so now we can go.’

‘Where to?’ he pursed his lips.

‘Back to your house,’ Trixx caught his sleeve and started dragging him outside. ‘We need to hurry if we want to get there before your son. He’s going to leave soon and he has a driver.’

‘Oh,’ Gabriel sighed at the thought of the stroll back. Trixx ushered him down the steps and into the evening air.

They walked in silence, the kwami dashing to the sides to play in the decorations from time to time, but he took no notice of her, his thoughts fully occupied with the gift exchange and the impromptu gaming session afterwards. When was the last time he played with Adrien? He didn’t know squat about the games the boy played, but even a board game. Chess. Piano. When was the last time they did anything as carefree as Adrien’s activities today ?

He didn’t even notice when they passed the mansion threshold, seconds before Adrien arrived. Hawkmoth gasped when he saw his son. At Marinette’s house, the boy had been positively beaming. His eyes had shone with excitement, his lips had been stretched in an almost constant smile. He stood tall.

The happy and relaxed Adrien he had seen minutes earlier looked nothing like the anxious shadow that entered the house. Stiff shoulders, shrunken posture, pursed lips. Sad eyes searched the vast space of the foyer and found no living soul in sight. The difference in demeanor was astounding and Gabriel found it difficult to believe it.

Guilt set low in the pit of his stomach as he watched his son slowly approach the Christmas tree. Nathalie had put the gifts under the low branches before she left. The packages must have piqued Adrien’s curiosity, especially after what he already had received at Marinette’s house. He peeked into a few bags not really bothering with the labels. There were only two people in this household after all, so he could easily guess which presents were for him.

Gabriel’s insides twisted even more violently when he realized he didn’t know the contents of a single bag under that tree. Sure, he had asked Nathalie to buy the gifts from a list he provided, but he had no idea what she had decided to go with, nor if anything from that list would actually make it to Adrien’s wishlist.

The boy pulled the package he had prepared for his father from his messenger bag and started looking for a good location for his gift. The present wasn’t as elegant and fancy wrapped as any of the packages waiting under the tree. It was quite evident when Adrien put it next to others. He seemed to mull over that fact before removing the gift from its place.

Hawkmoth sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It struck him now, and struck him hard, how he would give every gift he ever got for a chance to receive something Adrien had personally crafted with him in mind. He just knew he would cherish it no matter what that would be. At that moment he vowed it would be the first thing he’d do once this nightmare is over.

‘Anything interesting?’ a nasal voice broke the grave silence of the foyer.

It sounded familiar, although Gabriel couldn’t recall where or when he had heard it before. He looked around but there was no one else in sight, only his son. Still, it wasn’t his imagination, because Adrien spoke in return.

‘Nah, just the usual junk, a new game, some electronics, books and designer clothes,’ the boy said, but he didn’t turn. Maybe he was on the phone?

‘Any cheese?’ the first voice asked hopefully.

Adrien barked out a laugh. ‘I wouldn’t count on it, but I’ll see later, when Father comes.’

‘Huh,’ the voice sighed. ‘Where is he by the way? It’s almost Réveillon time.’

The boy cast a forlorn look at the door to Gabriel’s study. His fingers clenched over the package he held. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.

‘Aren’t you going to put that under the tree?’ the voice inquired.

Adrien hesitated, his gaze skipping between the closed door and the expensive yet awfully generic gifts. Finally he squared his shoulders and turned away from the study and from the tree. ‘Nah, he probably won’t like it anyway.’

Mist rose from the floor as Hawkmoth took a step in his son’s direction. But the boy was unaware of his father’s presence. Even worse, he got used to be aware of Gabriel’s presence anywhere but at his side. Gabriel felt another pang of regret as the scene once again started to fade before his eyes. He couldn’t do a single thing now, only watch the lonely boy making his way to his room.

‘Come on, Plagg,’ Adrien said climbing up the stairs. ‘Let’s see if Santa left you something in my room.’

A black blob peeked from Adrien’s collar casting an anxious look at the surroundings. When the foyer proved to be empty, an oddly familiar catlike sprite flew out and eyed the boy worryingly. ‘Are you okay, kid?’ the creature asked.

Hawkmoth’s throat suddenly went dry. ‘But that’s… that is…’ he choked out. Was that a trick of fading light? Of the shadows swallowing the Present?

Trixx stretched her lips in a wide smile. ‘I believe you met earlier this evening?’ She asked.

‘I’m fine, Plagg,’ Adrien shrugged to prove his point, but his eyes told a different story.

The black cat sent him a disbelieving look.

‘Okay, I’m not fine,’ the boy slumped. ‘But I will be! Once I put this set on and try out my hoodie.’

‘That’s my kitten,’ the sprite smirked barring its pointy teeth. ‘Any of the gougeres left? Or cheese danishes? I’m starving!’ He patted his tummy.

‘I’ll see what can be done,’ Adrien returned the cheeky toothy grin.

It was the last thing Gabriel saw before darkness swallowed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back to this story, for all your kudos, comments and bookmarks! It shows me this was worth the effort. Please keep letting me know what you think! I appreciate your feedback greatly!
> 
> Once again a big thank you to the amazing [Freedom-Shamrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/pseuds/Freedom_Shamrock) for beta reading and catching up a few plot holes.
> 
> Check out my other stories or visit me on [tumblr!](https://perditaalottachocolate-blog.tumblr.com/). I post my art there - [just like this Christmas Agrestes pic](https://perditaalottachocolate-blog.tumblr.com/post/181399476538/have-a-greste-christmas-remasa-i-am-not-your).


	4. Wayzz of Christmas Yet-To-Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  *****WARNING*****  
>  This chapter contains **mentions of a major character death** (temporal and just implied, no details).  
>  I mean you all knew it was coming, this is “A Christmas Carol” fic for a reason.  
> I also must say I really like how ambiguous this warning is xD. 
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful [Freedom-Shamrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/pseuds/Freedom_Shamrock), who was my beta for this chapter, for all of her useful advice and for saving you from all the typos and grammar mistakes.

Gabriel prided himself on the fact that he wasn’t a person to freak out easily. Keeping one’s emotions under control was crucial in his line of work, and even more so in his extracurriculars. But he couldn’t help the cold panic crawling up his spine as he headed through darkness to whatever his next destination would be. Logic suggested that it would be future, hence the newest revelations probably wouldn’t matter, provided the future was distant enough. 

His stomach twisted and clenched, as guilt, fear, jealousy and determination fought for dominance over his synapses. He did his best to convince himself once more that his goal justified the means. That even if Adrien  _ was _ Chat Noir, hence the constant target of Hawkmoth’s akumas, even if he had been continuously hurt during the attacks, none of this mattered, as long as Gabriel would come victorious out of the final battle. When he’d succeed in bringing Emilie back, in bringing  _ their family _ back, everything would return to order. Besides, Adrien would understand, wouldn’t he? He deeply loved his mother and missed her as much as Gabriel, if not more.

Somewhere at the back of his mind a tiny voice whispered, that with his mother no longer there, and his father focused on his mission, who had Adrien been left with? By taking the quest for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses Gabriel had effectively orphaned his son.  The boy seemed happier and more carefree with friends from school and someone else’s parents , than at his own house. He was more welcome there, more cherished, more appreciated. This nightmare made it clear how exactly Gabriel’s search for the miraculouses instigated that.

But the voice was subdued pretty quickly by Hawkmoth’s usual mantra. He wasn’t hurting anyone; he simply wanted the jewels. Everything would be fine once Emilie is back. And if it’s not, there would be plenty of time to fix it. Heck, he even could just use the Ladybug cure once he gets that miraculous.

Then words he had heard at the beginning of his journey drifted to the surface of his consciousness.  

_ It can’t change the heart, it can’t clear memories, it can’t create better ones. It can’t heal what's already broken. _

_ And there's always a price. _

With that last warning still ringing in his ears Hawkmoth appeared in his study again. The landing was much smoother than the two previous times. And the guide was already waiting.

‘Good evening, Gabriel,’ a little green turtle bowed his head respectfully. ‘We meet at last.’

Gabriel’s head was still reeling, but the turtle’s words caught his attention. ‘At last what?’ he asked. Lasts where not what he wanted right now.

‘Ah, I see that you’re as sharp as usual,’ the kwami smiled politely. ‘Glad to hear it.’

‘At last what?’ Gabriel repeated with emphasis.

‘Let’s not get ahead of time more than we already have, if you excuse my little joke,’ the green sprite chuckled goodnaturedly. ‘I am Wayzz, the Kwami of Christmas Yet-to-Come.’

That name rang a bell. The turtle had a wise vibe to him. Maybe that green bald head contained the knowledge Gabriel needed?

‘So you’re Wayzz,’ Hawkmoth sent him a searching look. ‘Then maybe I will finally get some answers.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’ That terse turtle was slowly getting on his nerves, even more than the cheeky fox and motherly bee.

‘Yes, you will get answers.’ Wayzz stared at him intently. ‘ _ All _ the answers.’

Gabriel returned his gaze in a silent staring contest. ‘That’s funny,’ he drawled, ‘because I know for a fact, that there is no such thing as one determined future. Each choice creates a new possibility, a new knot, a new universe.’

‘That is an interesting theory.’ The kwami bowed his head, but didn’t elaborate. 

‘Then how am I supposed to believe in the future you’re about to show me?’ Hawkmoth said triumphantly.  ‘There must be millions of them! Millions of choices, millions of futures!

Wayzz pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered it. ‘Let’s assume your theory is right for a moment, for the purpose of my explanation,’ he finally said. ‘It is much more complex in reality, but if I started explaining we’d never get anything else done this evening. Let’s say there are many possible futures based on the choices people make on the way,’ he opened his paws as if he was opening a fan. ‘Strangely enough in your case those many paths and knots all collapse to this universe,’ he brought his paws back together with a decisive clap. 

‘That’s impossible.’ Hawkmoth wasn’t a physicist or philosopher, but he knew a thing or two about the universe, and that definitely didn’t sound like how the world should work.

‘On the contrary it’s perfectly solvable in M-dimensions but learning the necessary math would take more than your remaining lifetime,’ the turtle explained patiently. ‘What it all boils down to is this: every possible choice you faced, every decision you made eventually led to this universe and to this moment. The multiple universes are for other people. They get sets of possible futures, classes even. In your case we have a class containing just this one future. Some of the paths merge earlier, others join late. But all in all, this is the result for each of them. The common denominator,’ the kwami concluded. 

One future. He only got one future. Yesterday he’d say “Hell, yeah!” He knew he would succeed. He knew he’d win. So  _ of course _ there was only one result and one future waiting for him. But the things he’d seen this evening made him doubt that belief. 

‘So you’re saying that…’ 

‘If you  ignore our little… gift for you,’ Wayzz interrupted him,  _ ‘this  _ is your future, Gabriel. Are you ready?’

He wasn’t. Not in the least. But there was no choice, was there? So he squared his shoulders and braced himself for whatever waited outside the door of his study.

It was  _ not _ what he expected.

The foyer was decorated with festive colors - red and gold, a nice contradiction to the monochrome decor of the mansion. Lots of greens. Holly, mistletoe, fir twigs. A magnificent christmas tree stood next to the stairs, decorated with trinkets of every shape and shade he could think of. The lights flashed softly to the distant tune of  _ Douce nuit _ , Emilie’s favorite  _ noël _ .  Presents piled under the lowest branches of the tree and spilled onto the carpet.

Carpet!

A red carpet covered the floor and climbed up the stairs, giving the interior a much warmer feel than it had in years. 

Still, the space was empty. Hawkmoth headed for the christmas tree and kneeled to read the tickets. His heart rose in his chest. “Adrien”, “Emilie”, “Gabriel” the notes said. They had been prepared with the three of them in mind. And that meant…

‘I did it!’ Hawkmoth said with a triumphant smile. ‘I brought her back! We are a family again.’

‘Yes, you did it,’ Wayzz repeated slowly, his eyes tight and sad. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to add something, but then he pursed his lips and kept silent.

Gabriel turned his head in the leisure room direction. He thought he heard something. Now fully used to his ghost-like abilities he didn’t even bother with reaching for the knob, just strolled through hardwood. 

_ Emilie _ , his heart sang.

She was sitting in an armchair by the window, her blonde curls bathed in the glow of the light filtering from outside. The sound he’d heard was her soft, quiet hum.

He hesitated, conflicted between the need to rush to her, to see for himself that her presence here was real, and the cold awareness that he couldn’t even touch her like this. That he’d have to wait Wayzz-knew-how-long to do that.

Wayzz knew.

‘What year is this?’ Hawkmoth asked, still frozen mid-step.

‘2019,’ came a reply.

So the end of his quest wasn’t a distant future, but a close one. And it would come only in  two years from his “now”. Adrien would be barely eighteen. That thought added to his excitement, and the feeling of self-righteousness just gained more fuel. He’d get his wife and his old life back soon enough. 

With newly restored confidence Gabriel resumed his stroll until he found himself next to his wife and the fairy tale  ripped at the seams . 

Emilie looked almost like a ghost herself. Deep dark shadows under her eyes and the ashen complexion added at least ten years to her age. Her hair only seemed golden in the light of the lamps. There were far more silver strands than blond ones. Dried lips, that used to wear the red of her favorite lipstick, continued the hum that lured him here. The brilliant green eyes Gabriel had come to love so much were now dull, lifeless. They lost their sparkle, trained on some invisible spot outside of the windows as if she was looking, waiting for something.

Or someone.

The premonition sent shivers down Hawkmoth’s spine.

The woman sat hunched, rocking slightly backward and forward and clutching something to her chest so tightly Hawkmoth had to lean in closer to see what it was. And when he did lean in, he caught the words hidden in the constant hum.

‘ _ My baby boy. My beautiful baby boy. Gabriel will bring him back. He’ll bring back my baby boy, my beautiful baby boy… _ ’ 

‘Madame Agreste, I brought you some soup,’ a new voice cut through the mantra making Hawkmoth jump away from his wife. 

His heart was racing now, as all the possible scenarios rushed through his head.

‘You really need to eat something,’ Nathalie entered the room with Adrien’s bodyguard at her heels. She put a tray with a steaming bowl on the windowsill and turned to Emilie.

There was no reaction. The woman stared out of the window, swaying slightly and humming to herself. 

Nathalie hesitated for a moment, before reaching out and brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen to Emilie’s face. ‘Madame Agreste? Emilie?’ she murmured softly, but the other woman did nothing to indicate she was aware of Nathalie’s presence. 

Gabriel’s assistant nodded to the bodyguard and pulled the item from Emilie’s unresisting fingers. It was Adrien’s drawing of the three of them, that his wife had had framed and put in his study. The glass over it was now cracked, but the picture remained intact.

‘Move her to the sofa,’ Nathalie instructed. 

The bodyguard lifted Emilie gently and carried her as if she weighed no more than a feather. 

‘ _ My baby boy. My beautiful baby boy. Gabriel will bring him back. He’ll bring back my baby boy, my beautiful baby boy… _ ’ the woman droned and the huge man grunted something in reply  that seemed to soothe her.

Nathalie raised a brow, as the bodyguard settled Emilie on the sofa and draped a blanket over her legs.

‘You really think so?’ she whispered. 

The man shrugged and shook his head barely noticeably, respectfully keeping out of Madame Agreste’s sight, although she appeared to be oblivious to her surroundings. 

Nathalie sighed and fixed her glasses. ‘Me neither,’ she said to herself. ‘But he’s going to try anyway.’ 

She brought the soup to the coffee table, took a spoonful and offered it to Emilie. Despite the gentle prodding Emilie’s lips remained closed. 

Hawkmoth stared in silence as Nathalie tried to feed his wife, too scared to ask what it all meant.

Wayzz patted him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Let’s move to where future Gabriel is now,’ he said softly and the scenery began to change.

‘But…’ Hawkmoth recalled what the fox kwami had told him. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘Why would it be?’

‘Trixx said-’

The turtle rubbed his nose irritably. ‘Whatever that lazy bum said was probably an excuse for her not to do her math.’ He turned to Hawkmoth. ‘Don’t worry, Gabriel. This  _ is _ an established timeline,’ he added and the  weight of his words crushed Gabriel’s heart.

The leisure room transformed into an outside location. Dirty clouds heavy with the promise of snow framed the sky. Bare trees swayed in the scarce light of approaching dusk. Long dead leaves danced and fell as the wind blew from the East.

Concrete and granite monuments crowded each other. Here and there a candle flickered in the wind, bringing them the smell of wax. It was dead quiet, which seemed adequate, Gabriel thought, since they clearly landed at a cemetery.

His thoughts were running hundreds of kilometers per hour now, analysing every scrap of information, trying to reach conclusions and at the same time dreading them. Future Gabriel was here - that’s what Wayzz implied. Was he… dead? But Emilie said that Gabriel would bring her baby boy back, even though Nathalie and Gorilla hadn’t shared her sentiment. That still could mean that Hawkmoth was here to see his own resting place or… and that thought  _ hurt _ more than any pain he’d experienced, he was here to see someone else’s resting place. 

Someone, whose return Emilie was awaiting.

Someone Nathalie thought would never return.

He shivered like the last leaf in December wind when he heard a broken voice.

‘My love,’ it weeped. ‘My dearest. I miss you so much.’

Wayzz tilted his head in that direction inviting Hawkmoth to see for himself. Dreading what he was about to find out Gabriel walked around the corner only to stand face to face with a grand tomb, drown in flowers, wreaths and candles.

A man was crying at its feet, wrapped in a grey parka that obscured his posture and face.

‘My Lady,’ the man whispered, before a violent sob shook his form.

Hawkmoth’s eyes wandered up, to where a sculpture adorned the tomb. His heart stuttered as he took in the sight of a young granite woman frozen mid move while throwing her yoyo. The artist managed to capture her brave, challenging smile as well as her boundless energy. 

He felt tears streaking his cheeks and shame gripping him in iron clutches, as he realised with relief that this wasn’t Adrien’s grave, but someone else’s. The fact that it was his enemy resting underneath was too much to digest at once.

‘Adrien,’ he whispered watching the man in front of the tomb.

‘Adrien,’ a similar voice echoed and future Gabriel appeared at the end of the path.

He was walking with a cane, and Hawkmoth wasn’t sure if it was the reason or the consequence of his evident limp. His hair was almost white now but he still stood tall.

‘Adrien,’ the older Gabriel repeated. ‘Please, come home. We’re waiting for you.’

There’s a beat of silence as the man stilled and stood up. When he turned to face the newcomer both Gabriels gasped in unison at the sight.

Hate burned behind the green irises, as they looked at Monsieur Agreste. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the man said, ‘but you must have mistaken me for someone else.’ 

His tone was hard and unforgiving, thought he kept his expression carefully blank. A red scar ran through his left cheek, diverting attention from the extensive burn that covered the whole right side of his face and crawled down his collar. 

‘Adrien, please,’ future Gabriel pleaded. ‘Your mother-’

‘Sir, I don’t know you,’ the man fixed him with another stone stare. ‘My name is Jacques Moreau,’ he added before facing away. ‘Adrien Agreste died with Ladybug.’

With one last heartwrenching look to the monument Jacques turned and walked away down the gravel path, leaving the older Agreste alone. Future Gabriel sank to a bench and hid his face in his hands. His cane fell to the ground and rolled to the curb.

Hawkmoth’s gaze shifted between the retreating back of his son and his older self, resigned and defeated despite his earlier victory. Some sick fascination spurred him to move closer to the tombstone and read the inscription. And suddenly he was out of breath.

_ Here lies Ladybug  _

_ The brave heroine, The Princess of Paris _

_ Who  _ _ gave her life for  _ _ her city and her people _

_ Rest in Peace Marinette Dupain-Cheng _

_ We will always love you _

 

‘B-but I wouldn’t,’ he stuttered, gasping for air. ‘I was after the miraculous. I’m not a murderer!’ He exclaimed. More tears ran down his masked cheeks. ‘I would  _ never _ kill her.’

‘You didn’t,’ Wayzz confirmed. ‘Nor had your akuma,’ he anticipated Gabriel’s next question.

‘Then how…?’

Wayzz sighed deeply. ‘Your wish,’ he finally said. ‘For  _ your  _ loved one to return to you someone had to lose theirs.’

‘No…,’ Hawkmoth whispered, turning his head to where Adrien had disappeared moments before, as the reality of his future finally sank in.

‘Adrien changed his name and cut all ties he had with you,’ Wayzz carried on. ‘Future Gabriel and Emilie will never see him again.’

Gabriel felt the rage and despair boiling in him. He clenched his fists.

‘No! This isn’t real! You tricked me!’ he cried accusingly. ‘You showed me some glimpses and now you want me to believe this is my fault!’ He trashed left and right as if expecting a last second rescue, an ally. But there was only future Gabriel there, as crushed and broken as he was. ‘You did this to me!’ Hawkmoth yelled at the top of his lungs.

‘Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?’ The turtle asked. His voice, patient and even for so long, finally quivered betraying his own emotions churning under the lenient shell. ‘Even small details matter in the long run. And you have been running a freaking butterfly factory for years, Gabriel!’

Those words made Hawkmoth pause and he looked at the green kwami. Wayzz’s eyes lacked compassion as he returned Hawkmoth’s gaze. 

‘We didn’t do anything to you,’ the turtle continued. ‘We merely helped you see what deep down you wanted to see. It was you who chose what you saw on this journey,’ Wayzz’s voice was quiet now. ‘It was your choice to see your father for the last time and your wife for the first. It was you who wondered what Adrien was like with his friends and if he missed you. It was you who wanted to know, what will become of your family when you succeed. Because you always knew you would stop at nothing to succeed - your mission has become your whole life’.

Hawkmoth stared at the tombstone again, at the dates engraved below the inscription.

_ 2001-2019  _

_ The light lost too soon will never be forgotten _

_ “One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it” - Joan of Arc _

 

Marinette’s figure appeared in front of his eyes as she tackled his son into the couch. As she handed him the gift he cherished so much. As she cheered when the boy played their game. He saw again how tightly Adrien hugged her, how he looked at her with absolute adoration.

_ My love. My Lady.  _ Adrien’s voice rang in his ears.

‘Make this not happen,’ Hawkmoth whispered sinking to his knees. Plagg’s words from the beginning of this nightmare came back and spilled from his tongue before he even realized it. Smug little shit knew it all along.

‘I can't,’ came a sharp reply. ‘It’s been done. By your choice and your hand.’

Their surroundings began to change again, the cemetery and future Gabriel disappearing in mist.

‘No!’ Hawkmoth clutched at his head. ‘There’s got to be a way. Please,’ he begged. ‘This is not what I wanted. Make it not happen. We're in the future. There’s still time. There’s still a way. Have mercy.’

‘Like you had mercy?’ Wayzz tone turned harsh as they reappeared in Gabriel’s study again. ‘On people of Paris? On your kwami? On your son and the woman he loved?’ 

Nathalie entered the room, unaware of their presence. Hawkmoth watched her as she walked to Emilie’s portrait and opened the hidden safe to put some documents inside. 

‘This is what you wanted,’ the turtle pushed him to follow the assistant, never ceasing his tirade. ‘This is your wish and your achievement. Your success. Congratulations, Hawkmoth. You did it.’

With those last words he pointed to the inside of the safe where two main miraculouses rested on a shelf in front of them. Charred. Dented. Broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me! Also this needs to be pointed out that **I didn't kill Gabriel**.
> 
> Now please leave your screams in the comment box, I'll gladly take them away from you.  
> There's one chapter left in this story. I hope you're ready!


	5. Nooroo's Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a big thank you to the amazing [Freedom-Shamrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/pseuds/Freedom_Shamrock) for her advice on this chapter. It is now much better than before.
> 
> Please enjoy this last part of Gabriel's journey. I hope you'll find it satisfying.

There were voices in Gabriel’s head. Some wept. Some screamed. Some demanded.

_‘Hawkmoth?’_

_‘Hawkmoth! Wake up!’_

It hurt to do anything but breathe, so Gabriel settled for that. He lay in the darkness of his thoughts and listened to the voices of past, present and future. He had a lot to listen to. The two new voices that seemed to be coming from outside got tuned out quite easily.

_‘Tik, he’s not responding.’_

_‘Gabriel, do you hear me?..._

He did, but he had no interest in reacting. His body seemed to be collapsing on itself. And Gabriel was fine with that. After what he’d seen, after what he’d felt, nonexistence was more than tempting. But he probably didn’t deserve such mercy.

_‘Plagg, cataclysm the brooch for me. Try not to break anything else.’_

_‘For the last time, it wasn’t my fault! I barely even touched it-’_

_‘Oh, just shut up and do it!’_

Once again Gabriel felt the destructive power within him. If he had any strength left, it would probably feed off it. Alas he was already drained beyond any level he had experienced.

_‘Miraculous Ladybug!’_

The words sank deep into his fading consciousness, followed by the susurration of hundreds of little wings and then emptiness.

 

***

 

_‘Father? Father, what happened?!’_

Somewhere far, far away Adrien was shouting at him. Gabriel tried replying but the distance was too large.

_‘Oh thank god, he’s breathing.’_

Strong hands lifted him carefully and moved to a softer surface where he was laid on his left side. His arms and legs were locked to stabilize his position, his head slightly elevated.

_‘Nathalie, I need help… Father’s unconscious… I don’t know, I just found him… Already called 112, the ambulance is on the way… Thank you. I’ll be waiting.’_

Gabriel felt something damp and warm on his forehead. Tender fingers brushed the ruffled hair out of his face. It must have been Adrien.

_‘Everything will be fine, Father,’_ his son whispered, voice tight. _‘Just stay with me, stay with me please, Dad. I need you.’_

He had no power left moments before, but somehow Gabriel managed to find that last resource of energy. His hand found Adrien’s hand and he squeezed it as much as he could.

‘I…’ he rasped. ‘I’m sorry.’

Then the world went black again.

 

***

 

Gabriel woke up in his bedroom, to soft snoring coming from the top of his chest. A light weight rested there and when he raised his head he spotted Nooroo curled into a tight ball. It was the first time he found the kwami out in the open and it crossed his mind that he should be panicked that someone could spot the sprite.

But he didn’t panic; he didn’t fear. In fact he felt better than in months. As if he’d been wrapped in a soothing cocoon. As if no negative emotion could reach him. And the source of the calm that enveloped him seemed to be centered where Nooroo slept.

He let himself immerse in the emotions his kwami sent his way. So much positivity, happiness, a festive spirit. For a brief moment he wondered if that’s how the moth wielder could feel. He had never allowed himself to feel anything else than disturbance, discord, despair. How could he not see what he’d been doing to himself?

Gratitude filled him, so he reached out and petted the kwami, regretting he’d wasted Nooroo’s potential. Maybe if he hadn’t detached himself to such extent…

But it didn’t matter anymore. The recollections of the evening’s events crawled to the front of his mind as he noticed daylight peeking through the curtains. It was already Christmas morning. He must have missed the Réveillon.

He tried to get up when a new sensation presented itself. His vision blurred and he seemed to break into sweat in an instant.

‘Easy, Master,’ Nooroo murmured from his place, popping one eye open. ‘Your body has  been through a lot lately. We need to take care of it.’

‘My body…?’ Gabriel repeated. Glimpses from last night chased the earlier memories. His weakness, Tikki purifying the akuma, Adrien finding him, paramedics...

‘You suffered from… what was it called… saint scope,’ his kwami explained. ‘At least I think so.’

‘Syncope,’ he groaned. ‘I must have scared Adrien.’

‘He did great,’ Nooroo announced proudly. ‘He knew exactly what needed to be done and he did it.’

‘Heroes tend to keep their cool and act well under pressure,’ Gabriel muttered. ‘That’s in the job description.’

The little butterfly took flight nearing his head. ‘Now that you know...’ he trailed off.

‘Everything needs to change,’ the man finished. ‘Starting with this.’ He sat up and opened his hand invitingly.

Nooroo wordlessly rested in his palm.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gabriel said after a long pause. ‘For everything I’ve done.’

The kwami bowed respectfully accepting his apology.

‘I’m going to renounce the moth miraculous and give it back to Adrien, together with the broken peacock brooch,’ the man continued. ‘He must know how to return you to the Guardian.’

The violet sprite looked to him with saddened eyes. ‘Master, if I may be so bold and request something?’

Gabriel raised a surprised brow.

‘A Christmas wish or gift, if you will,’ the kwami added quickly.

‘You can ask for anything within my powers, Nooroo,’ the man replied softly. That was the least he could do.

‘Then I ask for one last day to spend it with you in the open. I’ll keep out of Adrien’s sight, I promise,’ the sprite assured him. ‘I know you probably need some time to figure out how to give the miraculous back to Adrien and… I don’t want to say goodbye just yet,’ he ducked his head shyly.

Gabriel’s fingers brushed over his miraculous. Up to this point he rarely considered Nooroo as something more than a tool. Now he knew he had done the kwami wrong.

‘Of course, Nooroo,’ he whispered. ‘You can have this day and my vow, that I will try to make it up to you, for all my… ‘ his voice broke.

‘Thank you,’ the kwami interrupted him and after a moment of hesitation he flew up to nuzzle his holder’s cheek.

‘But a fair warning,’ the man raised a finger. ‘I have a lot of things to make up for today. It’s going to get rather busy.’

Nooroo’s lower lip quivered. ‘I can’t wait, Master.’

They started with raiding Gabriel’s wardrobe. After half an hour of frantic searching Nooroo located a dusted cardboard box on the top shelf and helped Gabriel to get it down. The sculpture was intact and the box kept the dust away.

Nooroo danced joyously with the wooden butterfly and it was the funniest and most endearing thing Gabriel ever witnessed him doing.

‘You think I should wrap it somehow?’ the man mused pulling the walls of the container up again.

The little sprite looked at the box critically. ‘Maybe just a color accent?’ he suggested. ‘And I know just the right thing!’ he squeaked and ducked into one of the drawers. Soon he emerged carrying a violet ribbon.

‘Ah, my dear Nooroo,’ Gabriel murmured appreciatively. ‘I see you’ve picked up a few things in the last months.’

‘I learned from the best,’ the kwami chirped timidly.

‘Flatterer,’ the designer shot back, but he didn’t hide the amused smile.

After a little detour to the kitchens Gabriel finally arrived at Adrien’s door, armed with a plate of finest cheeses he could find. Up until that moment he felt contented and determined. Now he actually faltered in his step. In his mind he’d seen himself prancing into his son’s room with an honest gift and a promise to fix everything. It was one thing to declare his intention, but quite another to actually do it. What if it was too late? What if he’d already burned that bridge or if his absence at Réveillon had been the last straw?

And somewhere under those doubts the finality of his decision lurked. He’d seen what would happen if he kept doing what he’d been doing. By trying to have both Emilie and Adrien, he’d only lose them both. But it didn’t make it easier to choose his son over his wife. It didn’t make it easier to let Emilie go and not to blame Adrien. That would have to be Gabriel’s decision, his choice and his consequences. Once he enters Adrien’s room there would be no going back.

His trembling hand hovered millimeters from the door. How could he ever think playing god would be a good idea?

‘It’s going to be okay, Master,’ Nooroo whispered from his place in Gabriel’s pocket. ‘Like Tikki and Plagg said yesterday, you were granted a chance. This is it. Just…’

‘Don’t let it go to waste,’ the man muttered.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Adrien’s messy hair appeared after a short moment.

‘Father!’ the boy exclaimed. ‘You should be resting!’

‘I’m fine, Adrien,’ he bristled out of habit.

Adrien winced and Gabriel caught himself right on time. He backpedalled immediately. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I woke up rested and wanted to make up for my absence at Réveillon.’ He pointed to the package tucked under his arm. ‘I have something I wanted to give you personally and I also ordered breakfast to be served in your room, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh.’ The door opened wider and Adrien moved to the side to let him in. ‘If you’re sure you’re feeling better.’

‘I really am,’ Gabriel said as he entered.

He put the plate he took from kitchen on the coffee table. The package was still resting under his arm, anchoring him. A reminder of the reason he was here.

Adrien inspected the contents of the plate and looked to him stunned. ‘Why cheese?’ he finally asked.

‘No particular reason,’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘I thought maybe you’d like some, but if not, maybe I’ll just put it here, out of our sight,’  he moved the plate to Adrien’s desk and gave a short nod when he spied two green cat eyes peeking at him from between the huge monitors.

‘Thank you for yesterday,’ he said taking a seat on the sofa next to a dumbfounded Adrien. ‘I’m sorry I ruined Christmas Eve for you.’

‘You didn’t,’ the boy assured him. ‘Please, don’t apologize for something you had no control over. I was relieved it was just syncope. For a moment I thought you were having a heart attack or something,’ he rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Thank god I didn’t,’ the older Agreste patted Adrien over his shoulder. ‘I probably should take  better care of my health,’ he admitted.

His son shot him another surprised look. At this rate he’d get a whiplash any second now.

‘I promise I will,’ Gabriel added. ‘Starting today with a healthy breakfast in good company.’

Adrien kept staring at him. He was probably wondering if Gabriel hadn’t bashed his head when he fainted yesterday. Maybe he needed to tone down the “new man” thing a bit.

He cleared his throat. ‘But before the food gets here, there’s something I wanted you to have.’ He put the box in front of the boy. ‘I didn’t put it under the tree because it’s very precious to me,’ he explained. ‘It was a gift from your grandfather. He made it himself.’

Adrien raised his brows. ‘Grandfather Pascal?’

Gabriel nodded. ‘Go on. Open it.’

The boy did as he was told. His reaction to the butterfly was similar to Gabriel’s from thirty years back.

‘Wow,’ Adrien whispered. ‘It looks so real! I can’t believe grandfather made this himself.’

Slowly, reverently he touched a wing with a tip of his finger and the butterfly started its dance. The boy watched the spectacle in awe.

Gabriel put a flat package next to the sculpture. ‘I also want you to have this,’ he said. ‘This is where the idea came from.’

Adrien unwrapped the package and stared at the second butterfly captured between the frames. ‘You painted this!’ He exclaimed tapping the signature in the bottom corner.

‘I did,’ he confirmed. ‘As a gift for your grandfather a year before he made that sculpture.’

Now the boy compared the two art pieces. His eyes shone with excitement. Gabriel felt a pang of guilt that he had waited so long to share those things with his son. He couldn’t take back the time, but he could make a better use of what time he had left.

‘Have I ever told you about your grandfather’s workshop?’ he asked and the story unraveled  sweeping them into the past.

They spent the whole morning reminiscing about Gabriel’s and Adrien’s childhoods. Breakfast never tasted better than next to his son, as they looked at old photo albums and memorabilia that mysteriously found their way to Adrien’s coffee table. Gabriel managed to steal a few hugs from his son, ignoring the confused looks the boy had been casting him. If anyone asked, he’d chalk it up to the syncope thing.

He really tried playing a few of Adrien’s games, but it was difficult not to frown at the controller. It didn’t want to obey him, no matter how hard he pushed the buttons and how much he scowled at it. At least he won the chess match, or things would get embarrassing. And no one needed to know that his pride was saved only thanks to Nooroo’s subtle hints.

After a while Adrien got bold enough to put the flat package in front of his father. He ducked his head and wrung his fingers as he explained he’d made it himself. He went for something practical - a tablet case made out of silver felt, decorated with a geometrical pattern of black butterflies, similar to their brand’s logo. The butterflies had been painstakingly cut out and sewed onto the case with only mild errors and Gabriel couldn’t help but to whistle at the final result. It definitely wasn’t something Marinette would make - the thing lacked her distinctive style and skills, but for a beginner’s work it was impressive and thoughtful. That’s what Adrien heard before the designer ran to try out his gift. It was a perfect fit.

And thus the afternoon came. More food was served and enjoyed. More albums were retrieved from shelves. More hugs were exchanged. More gifts were opened and appreciated. And old ties were renewed.

They were just finishing with the presents in the foyer when the doorbell rang. An old Chinese man was waiting on the doorstep with a huge leather bag, that looked a bit like old fashioned medical kit. Gabriel recalled the man had visited them before introducing himself as Adrien’s tutor.

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ the man gave him a deep bow. ‘I was told there’s a patient here who requires a house call,’ he said.

Gabriel turned to Adrien. The boy took a place behind his father’s back. He looked as if he was about to faint, but he shook his head.

‘It wasn’t me,’ he mouthed.

‘Good afternoon,’ Gabriel returned the greeting. ‘There must have been a misunderstanding.’

‘I assure you there wasn’t,’ the man stated confidently. ‘I am in the right place. You suffered from syncope last night, is that correct?’

The older Agreste frowned. ‘Yes. But I feel much better now. There’s no need for medical assistance.’

‘Ah, but you see, my area of expertise is closer to the _initial reasons_ for your state last night,’ the man smiled goodnaturedly. ‘I am Master Wang Fu. Our mutual acquaintance called me here. He said my experience with the more mysterious and _long lasting_ cases might come in handy.’

Gabriel hesitated. He knew he was an intimidating man even when he wasn’t trying, but the newcomer seemed determined and persistent. And his choice of words clearly suggested a second meaning to them.

Wang Fu narrowed his eyes and produced a business card. ‘Maybe this will be enough of a proof for my credentials.’

As he passed the card Nooroo stuck his head out of his place in Gabriel’s pocket, causing his wielder's mild panic attack. But Wang Fu not only didn’t flinch, but gave the kwami a little wink.

The designer took the card and froze. The piece of paper was devoid of letters or titles. It was marked only with the familiar symbols young Gabriel had chased for so long. The symbols that had become his obsession, that had led him to Tibet and to Emilie. They adorned the box that had brought him Nooroo.

‘You can trust him, Master,’ the little sprite whispered.

Wang Fu bowed again and this time the designer noticed a small green head popping out from under his coat. Wayzz gave him an encouraging smile.

With one last look at his son Gabriel reached a decision.

‘Adrien, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I need to talk to Master Wang Fu. Would you mind if we take a little break from our celebrations? I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’

The boy gulped and only then did Gabriel realize, that he was probably panicking over his Chinese tutor claiming to be a doctor now.

‘Everything will be okay, Adrien,’ he squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ‘I promise.’

Having no other choice his son gave him a short nod and bowed to Wang Fu. ‘I’ll be in my room,’ he said and left them.

‘This way, sir,’ Gabriel invited the man to his study.

The two sprites flew out of their hideouts as soon as the door closed. Wayzz pulled Nooroo into a hug so tight that for a moment they looked like one very weird two-headed kwami. And then they broke into an aerial chase leaving sparkles in their wake. With a high pitched squeak an orange dash spaced through Wang Fu’s bag dragging an indignant bee behind it, urging her to join the race over the room.

The kwami whirlwind circled Gabriel covering him in glitter. A joyous laughter broke from his chest, similar to hundreds he had already uttered that day in Adrien’s company, but this time something snapped in his chest relieving him of a weight he had no idea he had been carrying. He raised his hand to let the sparkles land on it and blinked as his surroundings transformed again.

He was in the leisure room, the space drowned in Christmas decorations, with Emilie at his side, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. There was silver in her hair and tiny wrinkles showed around her eyes as she smiled at him. In front of them three children and a horde of kwamis stormed the Christmas tree in search for gifts, with an adult Adrien and his raven haired wife trying to put some order to this holiday madness. The noise was inconceivable, especially since Duusu took over a tube and was chirping excitedly into it, her voice echoing in the vast space. Nooroo got tangled in branches and Plagg was about to cataclysm his trap away, when Marinette intercepted the black cat in time to prevent a major disaster.

That was his future. The future worth changing for, so much better than anything he could have hoped. So much brighter than he could fathom. And Gabriel laughed. He laughed with all he had in him, the scene bringing him immense delight.

He closed his eyes to blink the joyous tears away and when he opened them he was in his study again, hand outstretched in the air, with the last sparkle flickering and disappearing into thin air.

Wang Fu was watching him with an amused grin. ‘And thus one journey ends, Gabriel,’ he said, ‘and a new one begins. One I hope you’re going to take in a more traditional way.’

Gabriel bowed, still rendered speechless with the vision he’d seen.

His guest pulled up his sleeves. ‘Now where’s our patient? I believe we have a lot to do.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story, for your kudos, comments and bookmarks. I am extremely happy that "A Christmas Gabriel" just hit 100 kudos mark thanks to you! Gabriel-centric fics, at least among my stories, aren't really popular, so this means the world to me. 
> 
> Please share your thoughts on this story now that it is completed. I appreciate your opinions greatly <3
> 
> For more miraculous content check out my other stories or visit me on [tumblr!](https://perditaalottachocolate-blog.tumblr.com/).


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